Happy Hunting
by KayValo87
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft go home for a working holiday, but four-year-old Enloa has other plans. (An Easter Story)


**Hello again!**

I meant to post this two weeks ago (I even had it ready), but Mommy life took priority on my time. (Teething is hard on a little guy.)

This is dedicated to my little Nicholas who just had his first Easter.

A big thank you to my beta of the month, dlldarkwolf, for her help and feedback (I did listen).

_NOTE: The views and opinions expressed on matters of holidays/religion are purely those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author._

Enjoy ...

* * *

Mycroft scanned the document in front of him, taking note of the key points. While his mother had insisted his visit be a visit and not another working weekend, terrorist organizations tended to stay active and weapons dealers were not known to take Easter off.

"Mikey!"

Ignoring Enola's call, Mycroft picked up his next document. Maybe if he was quiet, she would think he was out and go bother Sherlock. Besides, these reports held the key to their nation's security. Whatever discovery the four-year-old had made in the garden since this morning's green rock could wait.

"Mikey! MIIIII-KEEEEEEY!"

As it was difficult to concentrate with one's doorknob rattling – not to mention the incessant yelling – Mycroft decided it would be easiest to just smile, agree with whatever his sister found fascinating, and then send her on her way. However, when he opened the door, he did not see a rock, plant, or insect.

"What is it, Enola?"

"You goin' to church wift Mummy an Daddy?"

"No," he replied, suppressing the desire to sigh. "Mummy and Daddy aren't going to church today. It's Friday."

"Dey go Sunday."

"Yes."

"You go Sunday?"

"No, I have to work."

"Kay."

With that she turned and headed down the hallway toward Sherlock's room. Glad that she was out of his hair, Mycroft returned to his work. He briefly wondered why she was asking about Easter services, but quickly dismissed the thought. Enola was Sherlock's problem now and he had bigger things to worry about.

**/S\S/S\**

"Sherwy!"

The small voice was like a far-off echo as Sherlock studied the complex experiment spread across his desk. Each sample had been carefully cultivated over the last several weeks and he was very close to publishing his findings. Granted, his mother had been unhappy that each sample contained human flesh, but he failed to see why forensics had to be put on hold for a day that celebrated chocolate rabbits.

"SHER-WEEEEEY!"

His concentration now broken, Sherlock mutter to himself as he moved the brick from in front of the door, just enough to open it a few inches. Once it was open as far as it would go, he looked down at his sister.

"What?"

"Why you yook funny?"

In took a second to realize she was referring to his protective mask, and half that time to deduce that there was no way she would possibly understand the answer. The girl couldn't even understand the concept of bacteria, based on the way she tried to make tea out of mud. Besides, she couldn't have knocked on his door just to ask about his appearance.

"Why are you knocking?"

"Oh ya … um … you go church wift Mummy an Daddy?"

Curious question for a Friday.

"Why?"

"Isa Easter."

"Right … no, I will not be going to church with Mummy and Daddy."

"Kay."

She turned to go and Sherlock almost closed the door, but something was off about the question. Never, on any weekend with his family had he attended services with them. Why would she ask about it now?

"Enola," he called, stopping her halfway down the hall. "Are you going to church with Mummy and Daddy?"

"No," she stated, shaking her black curls. "I tay wift you and Mikey."

"Why?"

"Easter egg unt."

Easter eggs? What made her think that he and Mycroft were going to hunt for Easter eggs? As much as he saw church as a waste of time, it would be better for his sister – and, for that matter, Mycroft and himself – if she went to services with their parents. However, as the weekend was just beginning and he was not wanting to get on his mother's bad side, Sherlock could not be the one to voice this.

"Tell you what," he started, softening his voice to a whisper. "If you can get Mycroft to go on your hunt, I will join you."

"Prwamise?"

"I give you my word."

Her grin widened as she hurried down the hallway. It was a fool's errand, as their elder brother would never put a childish activity over his work, but at least it would keep her occupied. Thus Sherlock closed the door and returned to his experiment. The four-year-old was Mycroft's problem now.

**/M\M/M\**

"Mikey!"

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. Next visit, he was staying in a hotel. Knowing that tone, he crossed his room to open the door. This had better not be about a rock.

"What now?"

"Will you unt wift me?"

"Unt?"

"Ya, unt eggs."

"Oh, hunt … no."

Her little face fell, and Mycroft steeled his resolve. With the threat Britain was facing, there was no time for Easter egg hunts. No measure of pouting, tantrums, or begging would change his mind.

"But Mikey, Sherwy won't 'less you do."

Well, wasn't that just like their brother to make him the bad guy. Still, he could understand Sherlock's reluctance to participate. The whole idea of traipsing through the garden looking for hollow plastic orbs in hopes of finding chocolate. Maybe, if he came up with an argument, she would understand and he could let her down gently.

"Enola, I can't hunt for eggs because I don't want any chocolate."

"Oh," she said, cocking her head to the side.

She didn't say anything else, she just walked away. With any luck, she would let the matter drop. Not giving it another thought, Mycroft returned to his work. There was a lot more at stake at the moment than his sister's feelings.

**/S\S/S\**

Sunday morning, Sherlock made his way around his desk, jotting down notes on each of his samples. Just a few more days and he would have all the data he needed. However, his attention was pulled to the door – specifically to a hard knock on the door.

"Not now, Mycroft."

He didn't have to check to know it was his brother at the door. Enola always accompanied her knocks with the childish nickname she had for him and his parents never made the door rattle. Although he was curious as to what had upset Mycroft enough to bring him to his door, he still had four sample to record.

"Sherlock, open the door."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the commanding tone, as if he was one of his older brother's underlings. Instead of complying, he just moved onto the next sample. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate as Enola was not the only member of their family to have the gift of persistence.

"What?" Sherlock snapped, pulling open the door after the tenth knock.

"Where are my papers."

A string of answers ran through Sherlock's head, each more condescending than the last. How would he possibly know what happened to Mycroft's papers? He had not even seen the papers and only knew of their existence because of the simple fact that Mycroft never traveled without them.

"If you are meaning to accuse me of taking them, I have no use for your papers."

"Well someone took them. They were on my desk when I went to breakfast and gone when I returned."

While there was always the possibility that an enemy agent had entered their home, it was highly unlikely. As their parents would know better than to interfere with Mycroft's work, that left a certain four-year-old. Curious as to what brought about this bit of larceny, Sherlock accompanied Mycroft to the girl's room.

"Enola?" Mycroft called, his voice restrained. "Can you come out here?"

She opened the door and gave them a big smile from under her straw hat. Before they could say anything, she ducked back into her room and emerged a minute later with three straw baskets with pink ribbons that matched her colorful dress.

"Wedy ta unt?"

"No, we are not going on an Easter egg hunt," Mycroft said, sounding more exasperated by the second.

"But … but you said," she pouted. "You said you would. Sherwy even prawmised."

"I said I would if Mycroft did it," Sherlock corrected.

"And I said I didn't want any chocolate," Mycroft added.

It took a moment for Sherlock to process the terms of this hunt and seemed to come to his conclusion about the same time as Mycroft. It would have been funny, if it wasn't such a serious matter. Clearly, his brother didn't see any humor in the situation.

"Enola … did you put my papers in your eggs."

"Uh-huh," she said with a smile. "Now you'll unt wift me!"

On second thought, the situation was very funny.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you," Mycroft hissed, taking a basket and handing it to Sherlock. "_I_ do this, _you_ do this."

**/M\M/M\**

Mycroft carefully made his way around his mother's flowerbed. If only he hadn't taken that call after breakfast, he might have noticed the theft before his parents hid the eggs. As it was, he had managed to find two in a bush, two by a tree, and one in the birdbath. Unfortunately, only one held a document.

"I got one!" Enloa announced, holding up a pink egg.

His manners long sense deserting him, Mycroft snatched the object and cracked it open. Good; the report on the arms shipment. Two pages down, ten to go.

"You havin' fun?"

Not trusting himself to make civilized conversation, Mycroft gave her a tight smile. It wasn't his place to punish her – or scream at her – for hiding their nation's security plan in the flower bed, he would have to wait for their parent's return for that. Looking back to the flowers, he spotted a blue on in the tulips.

"You got one too! Good dob, Mikey."

She patted him on the back and hurried across the yard to where Sherlock was filling his basket. As angry as he was, there was something about his sister that just got under his skin, and not always in a bad way. She had such an innocence about her. Now all he had to do was find his papers so he could continue to ensure her home was safe enough to preserve it.

**/S\S/S\**

"Wow, Sherwy! You got lots!"

Sherlock gave her half a smile at the childish compliment. Finding brightly colored, plastic eggs in a garden was hardly a challenge. The hiding spots were not even difficult, as they had been chosen with his sister in mind. Still, it was nice that one of his siblings appreciated his skill, even if it was the one who was impressed that a caterpillar climbed to the top of a stick.

"Why don't you find the rest," he suggested, adding in a whisper, "I think I saw one by the fence."

While she hurried off, he brought his basket over to Mycroft. He wasted no time in opening the eggs to find the rest of his papers. Sherlock couldn't help a smug smile that he had no chocolate in his basket.

"You really shouldn't let your nerves get to you," he advised his older brother. "Chocolate weighs more than paper."

With a sharp look, his brother headed inside to continue his work. Sherlock would have followed, but he was not due to record his next round of data for another hour. Besides, there were only four eggs left. He could play babysitter to Enola for the three minutes it would take her to find them. A prank on Mycroft, his experiment going well, making his sister – and therefore his parents – happy … this was turning out to be the best Easter ever.

* * *

So, how do you like my take on a Holmes family Easter?

Feedback is always welcome, but for now I am off to try and get this little man to sleep.


End file.
